Pontianak Menjerit

A horror story.

There was a time I stayed for about two months in Kulai (WORLD!). That time I was working for a palm oil plantation company. Their palm oil mill there had problems with the water treatment system. I was sent there for the rescue.

In the midst of the palm oil plantation there was this cosy little community set up for the workers. It was like a little kampong. Mill manager was the penghulu and plantation manager was the vice-penghulu. I must say that the place was beautiful. All throughout my stay, I bunked at the mill assistant manager’s neat little bungalow. He was a young Chinese fellow who claimed to have been malaynised. I was to call him Awie (his Chinese name was Ah Wee). His girlfriend stayed there too. I got along very well with them. Nice people they are.

When I say their water treatment plant is giving headaches, I mean it in every sense. The treatment pond had evolved into something like a fermented dodol, except it was worse. Far worse. It breathed laboured breath and you could see bubbles forming and exploding on the surface just like thickened dodol on fire. Birds would mistake it for god-knows what and they would get stuck on the merciless pond. And they suffered long smelly death. The pond was dying but it did not want to go alone. It wanted victims.

It was giving the management major headaches because the Department of Environment did not look kindly to the blackish final effluent that went into the rivers.

It was giving me the mother of all headaches as I stood there by the pond trying to breathe, in the heavy stench that was exhaled by the monster-pond.

‘Awie, what you want me to do? Revive the dead? And kill myself in the process?’ Mission almost impossible.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to do. In my expert knowledge as pond-shaman I would say that the pond was dead. That… thing that was still breathing was no more the pond. It was the hantu raya of the pond or something.

Headache. Inside outside upside down all around. Thinking was impossible. Even breathing was not a preferred activity. The smell, omigawd… it felt like the hantu raya's invisible hands were at your throat choking you, daring you to survive it. I needed something to cover my nose if i were to go by the pond again. And so I left it and headed back to the office.

The smell followed me and everybody at the office had to stifle vomit when they come near me. The smell of the dead. It refused to let go of you. It trailed behind you like a shadow, menacingly.

I headed back to the bungalow. Nobody could function at the office, with me smelling like that.

The smell had stuck on even the undies. It was terrible. Peeling off everything, I dumped them all in the washing machine. Put generous amounts of detergent and put the cycle to max. If I could put myself in the washing tub, I would too. Instead, I headed to the shower and scrubbed off the smell of the dead pond.

Refreshed after the shower and smelling like a human again, I was pleased to note that the washing machine had stopped. Great! I didn’t bring plenty of clothes. I could hung them then and hopefully they would be dry soon and I could wear them again tomorrow.

Opened the tub.

Lo and behold, what was that little teenie weenie whitish soft pieces stuck on almost every garment in the tub. Peered closer. Picked one up for closer inspection. Looked like… tiny hands? Cannot be. Lifted spectacles for better zooming. 20k, zooming 10k, zooming further in…. and then it dawned on me what it was.

‘Blendered’ lizard!!!!!!!!

A lizard must have been inside the washing tub when I put my clothes in, the lid was left opened since last night (Awie! I am so going to kill you). The max cycles must have shred the lizard to pieces!! And then I saw bits of its’ head and other limbs.. Eeeeeuwww!!! (And scream scream scream scream and jump and run and jump and run and into the shower again and screammmmm).

I can’t even begin to describe to you how hysterical that got me. Now I know I claim to be a superhero. But lizard to me is like kryptonite to Superman.

Demam terus.

(psst, washing machine is a killing machine. One time my brother in law washed clothes with a rat trapped inside. The rat came out dead and BALD!!!!)